2021.11.28 15:40 OkSquash7223 Don't work at companies with a suicide rate at the office
2021.11.28 15:40 IntangibleLexicon Confirmed: AMC Theaters now giving NFTs for Spider Man film. Let’s buckle up!
2021.11.28 15:40 catsthatsneeze Loan Forgiveness for Social Work
Hi all, I'm attending a pretty high-ranked private school to obtain my MSW. This is after a public undergrad so affordable I had parts of my scholarship left over after paying all my school bills. I had to take out a $20,000 loan for my first year of grad school on top of the financial aid they offered me. This is obviously a ridiculous amount of money. I will be working in nonprofits when I graduate; I won't make nearly enough to pay this back in any timely manner.
I'm trying to look into loan forgiveness, and I wanted to make sure that it's something that pays you while forgiving your loans. I'm paying $15,000 to do an unpaid internship - it's a fucking scam, I want to make sure that I'm not expected to live off my savings during the 2-year $50,000 loan forgiveness job in underserved areas. That would be impossible, and I have another $25,000 to pay next year. I'm using all my savings just to live while I'm doing an internship that takes up so much time I can't get another job. It feels like such a trap. I guess it is.
I can't decipher a lot of the information I'm reading online. I'd love some help. I have no problem moving or working in underserved areas; for loan forgiveness, I don't even mind what the pay is, really, as long as it's there and it's livable. I can live off of almost nothing when I live rurally, and paying off my debts is my top priority after graduation.
Thanks in advance!
submitted by catsthatsneeze to financialaid [link] [comments]
2021.11.28 15:40 Hopefully_Irregular 35/M/Canada looking for a nice Sunday conversation! No weird stuff, female preferred as we seem to get along better than with dudes.
2021.11.28 15:40 bcjh Poor Phyllis
|submitted by bcjh to DunderMifflin [link] [comments]|
2021.11.28 15:40 rarskal Please critique my first complete writing attempt | NEPHILIM 1 [3327 WORDS]
First chapter of a story I have since abandoned. Interested in critique on prose, tone, pacing, etc. Are the world and characters interesting?
WARNING: Includes some graphic violence.
Thanks in advance for any comments!
Isac moved silently through the dim-dark fall wood. A blanket of fallen leaves in red, brown, and gold coated the forest floor, crinkling softly underfoot. Branches of beech and hornbeam formed a dour realm of shifting shadows and bright light shafts, hiding and blinding in equal measure. His short-furred hound, Síth, loped through the undergrowth beside him, nose pressed flat to the ground as they walked. The hound's dirty brown coat made him near invisible against the earth and fallen leaves. Isac often wondered how he could smell anything under the unique stench of his own musk.
He held a supple yew flat-bow in one hand, while the other fingered the rough goose fletching of a long iron-tipped arrow. The arrow's metal tip rolled up against the side of his bow-hand, as he watched the forest shadows intently for a glimpse of game. He slowed to a stop as Síth's ears perked forward in the corner of his eye, the hound staring through the brush and sniffing ferociously. The hound took a single step forward before stopping to look up at his master.
Isac nodded. There was prey ahead. He crouched slightly in the undergrowth, taking long, deliberate steps forward, careful not to brush against shrubs or branches that would alert his quarry. He peered through the forest, waiting to catch sight of the game his hound had smelled.
An ear flicked in the brush. Isac froze with the sudden movement, tightening his hand’s grip on his bow. A deer slowly raised its neck from the grass in a small glen, so far unalarmed. He drew his arrow to his chin, the feathers of the fletching brushing against his cheek. He let the string roll off his fingers. The arrow flew at his prey, a whistle and thud marking the end of the arrow's flight through the bush.
A frantic patter of hooves followed the landing. Braying warning calls echoed through the forest as a series of deer crashed noisily through shrubbery and low branches; Isac stayed low and silent, calming listening for quiet moaning under the breaking of branches and thunder of hooves. His mark had fallen into the soft grass, the arrow protruding from its chest. Passing through the last stand of trees, he shouldered his bow for a simple knife sheathed at his belt. He knelt, planting the blade deep in the deers breast. The weak windmilling of legs slowly ceased as it lost the strength to run. Warm red blood drained out onto his hand as he pulled away his blade, but he was unfazed by the sensation. It was one he was long since accustomed to.
Isac grinned. His hunt had been rich; comprising a strong deer, a triple brace of rabbits, and a small sack of chicken of the woods - a large, orange colony of mushrooms found under the trunk of a fallen tree. It meant the steading would eat well this span, and would have fresher meat besides the cold hard tack stored in the cellar to pass the coming winter. Síth stretched and lolled beside him, relaxed after having not been needed for the chasing of dying game this hunt.
He quickly gutted and hauled the deer's carcass to his shoulders to begin the long walk home. Familiar forest sounds rang through the bush, birds singing and chirping in the trees, while a brook bubbled along smooth stones deeper in the brush. Isac knew from boyhood experience those stones made for good ammo - well used for chasing the foxes that sometimes came for the steading's chickens. The forest was as beautiful as a painting, if a painting could dance and sing. The gold of the leaves; the radiance of the sun beams hitting the forest floor; the bright reds and blues and blacks of singing bird's feathers; each was better than any picture in a lord's castle, and the bird's songs and brooks bubbles could both stand up to a lively tavern's bard. Isac was, in a word, blessed.
A stiff breeze broke a few remaining red-gold leaves from skeletal fall-time branches, the late season winds already chill. Isac trekked through the last of the forest, kept warm by a thick cloak and his burden of deer. The carcass was still warm on his shoulders. Síth frolicked along happily at his side, seemingly unconcerned by the cooler weather.
The tree line broke along the bank of a wide river. The late sun's light shone through the buildings of the steading. A longhouse stood a fair few strides from the bank, built into a gentle hill with stout oak planks for walls, a rough-hewn stone foundation, and hand-carved shingles. A thin smoke stack puffed up from a long central chimney, while chickens clucked and pecked the ground for worms and fallen grain. A pair of old hunting hounds lay beside rough fence of lashed branches, guarding small plots of winter crops from thieving creatures of the forest.
The villagers of the steading bustled about the small village, busy readying themselves for the approaching winter. Isac’s father was up on the longhouse roof, hammering in some new oak shingles to prepare for winter snows and rains. He tossed aside one shingle that had a large crack, which had been letting in fat droplets of water for a handful of spans through the late fall already. His mother was busy mending thick cloaks and linen tunics with some of the other village women, sitting together in a tight huddle - busy chatting as they worked. Thick furs lined the inside of the cloaks, perfect for the coming frosts. Other villagers hauled sacks, or fished, or farmed, or simply lazed about in the fading sun's light.
“Ho, Isac,” Isac’s father called down from the longhouse's roof. He shifted from his shingling, casually waving a hammer in hand. A bundle of shingles and nails rested on the rooftop beside him. “I see a good hunt! What meat did you bring to add to the pot?”
Isac shifted his cloak, letting the village see the brace of rabbits and the full foraging sack hanging off his belt. “A deer, three rabbits, and a stuffed sack of mushrooms besides. We can eat well this span,” he said with a wide smile, pride filling his chest. Yet short of sixteen winters, he was perhaps already the small steading's greatest hunter and wood walker. Lifting the deer from his shoulders, he hastily turned away as his eyes met Amelie's. Scarcely a winter younger than Isac, her rosy cheeks, eyes of icy blue, and raven black hair had been stirring feelings he did not yet know what to do with. Whenever her eyes turned to his, he would leave in a fluster to hide the growing blush on his cheeks, a fact the village women were painfully aware of. He did not see her blush and smile back; he never did.
Hoisting the deer onto a bloodstained table, he tried his utmost to ignore the quiet laughter of the villagers behind him. He took out a thick bundle of twine and a triangular rack made fit for his purpose. He stretched the deer wide and tied each of the deer's hind legs to a horizontal portion of the rack, then lifted the whole contraption up over his shoulder to take into the hanging hut by the river's side. The hanging hut was special; the river ran through one side, constantly bringing in cool running water. The cold water and running river kept away the spirits of decay that brought the bad rot to the hanging meats before they could be dried or stewed or baked.
The pitter patter of rain on the ground outside heralded the day's end, dark clouds masking the sun before it had chance to breach the horizon. The dim-dark fall light turned black, and the steading retreated to the shared longhouse. The crackling hearth fire served as both beacon and warm refuge away from the burgeoning clouds. Pitter patter quickly turned to downpour, and light turned to gloom outside the hearth's cozy fire. Síth and the other hounds lay before the hearth, gnawing on half-eaten haunches.
Under their shelter, the villagers broke bread. They sat on piled furs along a low table beside the hearth, sharing in the products of their labors. They ate honey and jams on flatbread, baked fish caught from traps along the riverside, and roasted boar and mushrooms from the forest. Carrots and potatoes, as well as leeks, and onions, and meat scraps came together in a warm stew. Cheese and mead rounded out the feast, a barrel having been broken open and half emptied with suspicious quickness.
As the villagers broke fast and drank with raucous abandon, Isac’s father slammed his mead mug on the table. “Alright,” he declared, as folk hushed their mirth and loud feasting, “which of the god tales will I be telling tonight?” At once the table broke out once more into loud talk and joyous shouts. Drunken men called for tales of Mehyt, a dark goddess of feline grace. The women called for Meili, an unearthly handsome traveler who roamed the land during cold nights, looking for hearths and homes with lovely beauties to call upon.
The table-talk softened when Amelie raised her head. “Tell me the tale of Lukke, who ventured seven days and nights to be with his love.” Her cheeks were even rosier than usual, flush with mead-strength, as she looked boldly upon Erik's chest and dagger.
“Ah,” Isac's father took a long draught from his mead mug, “'tis a tale I know well. Far-famed is the depth of Lukke's passion, such that he braved the displeasure and defenses of a mistrusting father for near a spans length to be with his love.” He cast a knowing glance around the table. “Not that everyone must suffer such ill-earned ire,” he said, as village-men and women chuckled and bumped elbows at the young folks well-known struggles.
He started his tale in a story-tellers baritone; “Lukke was a young god, fresh from the wild-lands of his birth, smelling of both animal’s musk and winter’s frost when he was bewitched by an uncommonly comely aspect. Rosalie was an alderman's daughter, a beautiful gemstone in an otherwise drab mine of fishwives and hemp-weavers. But, unfortunately for Lukke, her father had already promised her to the Mayor's son of the neighboring town. He knew such a man would care and comfort her long past her youth, unlike a capricious god who simply took a passing fancy.” The story-teller continued to sip at his mead, his audience quietening to listen to his saga-tale.
His throat wetted, he continued. “Despite this, Vund was unfazed. On the first day, he begged and pleaded with the alderman, promising the stars and mountains both. The alderman was unmoved. He sent Vund away, leaving his daughter pining that night by her bedroom window.”
“On the second day, Lukke tried something new. He took the form of a lousy stray, one so pitiful you never saw. He had short-fur and dirty brown hair, with a leaky eye and a lame leg, and he looked up at the alderman with such pleading eyes you could never think to deny. However, the alderman was wise to godly tricks, and knew there were no such strays in a village under his guidance. Instead of taking the troublesome godling into his home, he kicked and yelled it out onto the street, refusing to be fooled. Lukke was sent running, his tail between his legs like the puppy whose form he had taken.”
Isac's father took a deliberate look at his son. Several villagers guffawed, one even clapping him on the back. Isac looked to the floorboards, face red with embarrassment. Amelie looked at both saga-teller and young hunter with shining eyes, making Isac's predicament all the harder to withstand. He had surely enough noticed her rosy blush this time.
“When came the third day, Lukke came neither to beg nor plead. He stayed his desire to night's fall, before taking the guise of a winged black raven, ready to swoop and glide his way into his would-be mistresses chambers. So gleeful was he when he tucked through the ever just open shutters, that he did not notice the alderman standing in the corner, ready with broom and foot to strike the enterprising god back over the mantle he sought to have flown over.”
“By this point, you would have thought Lukke ready to yield to the stubborn alderman. For three days and three nights he had attempted to gain entrance to his lovers chambers, and for three days and three nights he had been beaten back, by word, and foot, and broom. Already the story was passing through the neighboring villages and towns, of the gods lusty desire and the alderman's solemn defense. Instead he came again, and again, and again; as a cunning red fox, a tricksome rat, and even a stealthy worm passing through the earth.” By this point, the entire longhouse was hushed, as each of the villagers waited to hear the story's end.
“Each time the alderman discovered him and beat him out of their home, if he even made it that far. But on the seventh day, after more than a full span had passed, Lukke finally bested the alderman's defenses. He took the shape of a tiny insect, that of a single louse hiding in the alderman's own hair. In such a way, he not only gained entrance to the alderman's home, but was escorted in like an esteemed guest, free to rollick with the alderman's daughter for the rest of the long night.”
The room erupted in noisesome mirth. Isac cheeks burned as he chewed on a hunk of flatbread, shamefaced at the laughter of his fellows and the amorous gaze from the village girl he could never again ignore. Men and women both drank loudly of mead as they laughed, each playfully mocking the lonely lovers in their own kind-hearted ways.
A hammering at the longhouse door interrupted the cavorting. The steading men shared a glance, then called out. “Come in, friend. Neither lock nor bar hinders your passing.” The door opened to reveal a cloaked figure, juxtaposed against the spilling rain and flashes of striking thunder. His hood was wide-cut and drawn low, while his sleeves were broad, concealing his hands. His attire had seen better days, both sleeves and cloak ragged and torn at the edges. A foulness of stench came in with him, perhaps from trekking in the chickens leavings outside.
The village-folk only hesitated a moment before calling out once more. “Well, come on in then. Take a seat by the hearth to dry the damp from your cloak. And feel no mores to partake in our mead and bread.”
The cloaked man strode slowly into the longhouse, his walk affected with a strange stutter, and clinking oddly with each step. He took a deliberate seat on the opposite side of the long table to that of the villagers, beside the hearth's fire, still nary a word spoken. One of the men passed him a round of bread and a bowl of stew, which he took without thanks or recognition. The steading-men looked askance at each other, clearly put off by the cloaked man's manner, but none were so uncouth as to ask he depart in the pouring rain and felling-night's cold. Cúb raised his head from the other side of the hearth, a low growl eking from between closed teeth, as Isac's mother turned a strange shade of ashen-white.
Amelie reached out to steady the man's arm as he raised a trembling bowl of stew to his lips. “Easy, grandfather. Let me aid you,” she said. The man seemed to notice her for the first time, the hood of his cloak tilting ever so slightly back. He placed the stew back on the table in an unhurried manner, before taking a bite of the honeyed bread.
He then reached up to hold Amelie about the back of her hair. He slammed her head violently onto the table - once, twice, thrice - knocking aside plates and bowls of stew. Her skull crunched, throwing small flecks of blood and bone into the air.
The longhouse was silent in shock and horror. Isac could see Amelie's face, her perfect, beautiful face, lying still on the tabletop. A part of her was still without flaw; her rosy cheeks were unblemished, her raven black hair draped like a picture frame. Her eye, once a vibrant icy blue, stared back at him like dead glass. The rest of her was spread across the table, a macabre place setting of crushed bone, and brains, and blood. The stench he brought sharpened, not one of simple foulness, but of rotting corpses and dead men.
“Amelie!” Her father exclaimed, choking back tears and shock, quickly turning to rage. His face twisted to one of hate as he looked upon the stranger; he had dipped his finger in a smear 0f the spilled blood, bringing it calmly to his lips. “Murderer!” He shouted the accusation as he dived across the hall, reaching for the man's throat, looking to crush the stranger's life from his body with his own hands.
The stranger leaned back, accepting the man's charge. He wrapped one arm around the grieving father's back and plunged the second deep within his chest. The hall erupted in a chaos as the shocked stillness broke, men reaching for knives and weapons as the women screamed and fled with the children. Amelie's father's back bulged like a bad pimple, as the stranger's arm erupted from it in a burst of violence and gore. He clasped a weakly beating heart in his hand, brazenly dropping it to the bloody floor.
“Not this one,” said the cloaked stranger, the first words he had spoken since passing the longhouses mantle. His voice was guttural and hoarse, as if rusted from years of disuse. He spat Amelie's blood from his mouth.
The hounds barked ferociously before launching themselves at the enemy, Síth lost in the pandemonium as they ripped and tore at his legs. The villagers leaped at him with their fists and knives. His cloak opened slightly at their charge, briefly revealing a filthy tunic and bones as the stench of rot and death grew stronger. Isac sat frozen on his furs, unable to break away from the accusing stare in Amelie's glassy eyes. Eye's that had been smiling at him scarce minutes before.
Of the village men, only Isac's father stood back, panic-stricken understanding dawning on his face. The stranger stood, throwing the men from him, ignoring both knife's edge and hound's teeth. What knife marks scored his skin healed quickly. He would not be stopped, not by them, or any simple man.
“Run, Isac!” His father yelled at him, before launching himself at the stranger, grappling him in a suicidal bear's hug. The other village men fell back, cradling broken arms and ribs from where they were thrown. One stared sightlessly at the ceiling, his jaw ripped from his mouth. Isac jumped from his place at the table, making for the door.
Unexpectedly, the stranger reacted to his sudden movement, as he had Amelie. Throwing Isac's father to the floor with the loud crunching of breaking bones, he moved to block Isac's path. In a growing panic, Isac emptied the pot of still boiling stew from the fire, filling it with hot coals and ash. He felt the skin of his hands burn and bubble as he threw the coals over the stranger, eliciting a shrieking scream for the first time that black night.
Isac ran through the open longhouse doors into the pouring rain, sprinting for the pitch-dark woods for the second - and last - time of that fate-filled day.
submitted by rarskal to fantasywriters [link] [comments]
2021.11.28 15:40 accboy LPT: Buy electronic devices that use AA/AAA batteries instead of in-built rechargeable batteries. No, hear me out.
This is valid for devices like trimmers, kid's toys, frothers, or any other low usage devices. Not valid for phones, smartwatches of course. Buy rechargeable AA/AAA batteries and use those instead for these devices. This way you get numerous benefits:
2021.11.28 15:40 andybernard3 New to the community. Can I use Trust Wallet and still get the shiba rewards?
I am working on getting into Meta. I use Trust Wallet and pancake swap. I setup meta using its contract address into my wallet and also the shiba. I can now connect to pancake swap and swap for Meta?
submitted by andybernard3 to METAbsc [link] [comments]
2021.11.28 15:40 BVanStratum Mega Lopunny Raid ASAP Inviting 10
2021.11.28 15:40 InflationTasty5548 ULPT Request: forgot to submit supplemental essay to a college, what should i do?
i recently made the dumb mistake of forgetting to submit supplemental essay to a college for early decision, but i dont want to let my parents know, since theyll probably get mad. any tips? are there any places where i can get a fake rejection letter or something?
submitted by InflationTasty5548 to UnethicalLifeProTips [link] [comments]
2021.11.28 15:40 gbbot02 Yus Lopez
|submitted by gbbot02 to gentlebeauties [link] [comments]|
2021.11.28 15:40 LesbianOtaku404 Could someone put this character in front of these 3 album covers?
|submitted by LesbianOtaku404 to PhotoshopRequest [link] [comments]|
2021.11.28 15:40 shaggy012 Top Metaverse Coin List
2021.11.28 15:40 DamnInteresting In the 1950s, rather than integrate some public schools, Virginia closed them
2021.11.28 15:40 FoxyFurGirl What's up besties
2021.11.28 15:40 PumpkinEyes Catouflage 🙈🐈⬛
|submitted by PumpkinEyes to Pet_Renaissance [link] [comments]|
2021.11.28 15:40 ctraltdelete_ FT:Tiffany LF: NMT
2021.11.28 15:40 bizetbach Where do you think I come from?
2021.11.28 15:40 ruthisaperv Is this legal? More detailed info in the comments.
|submitted by ruthisaperv to antiwork [link] [comments]|
2021.11.28 15:40 anniegrl1 Reddit Plant Adoption Event! I do plant adoption events on instagram but I wanted to do a mini one for all you reddit users (: Comment “mine” with the number of the plant you want to claim it! All plants come with lifelong education because they are individuals
|submitted by anniegrl1 to FortCollins [link] [comments]|
2021.11.28 15:40 niuz-bot VIDEO Premierul Ciucă: Sărbătoarea Hanuka ne aminteşte că speranţa şi credinţa ne fac mai puternici - [Politica]
Sărbătoarea Hanuka reprezintă lumină şi biruinţă, iar cei care aprind lumânările de Hanuka sunt împreună pentru a cinsti memoria celor jertfiţi pentru libertate şi unitate, fiind celebrate totodată valorile spirituale ale poporului evreu - solidaritatea, întâlnirea dintre reli...
Citeste in continuare: https://www.agerpres.ro/politica/2021/11/28/video-premierul-ciuca-sarbatoarea-hanuka-ne-aminteste-ca-speranta-si-credinta-ne-fac-mai-puternici--822941
submitted by niuz-bot to niuz [link] [comments]
2021.11.28 15:40 luka_ruka Not like the simulations
|submitted by luka_ruka to dankmemes [link] [comments]|
2021.11.28 15:40 UndeadArt2009 Thellamasir knockoff
|submitted by UndeadArt2009 to FortNiteBR [link] [comments]|
2021.11.28 15:40 Drone2Address #drone #droneimages Are waypoints and second operator likely coming to mavic 3?
2021.11.28 15:40 SchoolQuestions25 Engineering Programs Feedback
I’m sending in my OUAC applications today and I’m just looking for some feedback on my courses. I only want to apply inside Ontario.